


oh, we're in love, aren't we?

by enjolrasenthusiast



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, the prom fic no one asked for because im emotional and love ed sheeran
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjolrasenthusiast/pseuds/enjolrasenthusiast
Summary: grantaire brings prom to enjolras





	oh, we're in love, aren't we?

**Author's Note:**

> i know i promised french court au next and its happening i promise but im emotional and being in love sucks and ive been listening to ed sheeran on repeat so this happened i guess? idk i blame this on my awful feelings and the fact that i dont have a girlfriend enjoy

It’s nearing midnight when Grantaire falls through Enjolras’ window, arms full of flyers and a get-well-soon card from Courfeyrac, glitter bomb included. Enjolras is still in bed, and he starts weakly at the crash, only to relax when he sees it’s Grantaire. As Grantaire dusts off his dress pants and gathers the scattered sheets of paper, a slow smile spreads across Enjolras’ face - Grantaire savors the sight of it, even if it doesn’t quite meet Enjolras’ eyes.

“It worked, at least,” Enjolras says, an almost hopeful tone in his voice. “We did it.”

“ _ You _ did it, Enjolras,” replies Grantaire, shaking his head fondly. “You did all the work, we just made sure administration didn’t gut you for it. Six very thankful couples get to go to prom together because of  _ you, _ not me.”

“And one more on the way?”

Grantaire chuckles, depositing his flyers on Enjolras’ desk chair and taking a seat at the foot of Enjolras’ bed. From the chair, the various slogans he and Jehan had thought up together shine back at him, a bright blue  _ Love is love! _ emblazoned across the top sheet of paper. “Eponine wouldn’t dream of letting you down, but admin wasn’t nearly as nice to her as they were to you.”

“Cosette?”

“Doing the same thing I am, I imagine,” Grantaire says, brandishing his cellphone with a flourish - it earns his a furrowed brow and cocked head from Enjolras. “You still have your tux, don’t you?”

“Yes…?” Enjolras starts, slow and wary. “I don’t know why that- you are  _ not _ sneaking me in, Grantaire.” Enjolras scrambles awkwardly to a sitting position, the cast on his arm making for a stilted crab-walk up the bed. “I can’t even leave my  _ house _ and they’ll notice me the second I make it on campus.”

“Oh, come on, Enjolras, I’m not an idiot. I brought prom to  _ you. _ ”

“Grantaire, I said- you- what?”

Grantaire ignores him and throws open the closet doors, pulling out the pristine suit with a quiet noise of triumph. Enjolras is still gaping at him from the bed, only managing to pull himself together when Grantaire thrusts the suit at him with a wide grin plastered across his features. He stumbles unsteadily into the bathroom to change, and as soon as the door closes behind him, Grantaire sinks to his knees. It’s nearly ten minutes for Enjolras to make himself presentable, not counting the extra time the broken arm adds, enough time for Grantaire to busy himself sifting through Enjolras’ piles of schoolwork for anything resembling a speaker. He  _ has  _ to have one, a seventeen-year-old in this day and age wouldn’t be caught dead without music - but six minutes in, Grantaire has to admit defeat. The only thing he can find underneath Enjolras’ papers are more papers, and the rest of the room is so immaculate it couldn’t possibly be hiding anything that Grantaire hasn’t already seen. He’s still trying to figure out what to do when he hears the lock on the bathroom door turn, and in a fit of panic, grabs an empty water glass from Enjolras’ bedside table, presses play on his phone, and drops it into the glass.

Soft guitar fills the room as Enjolras steps in, stealing the breath from Grantaire’s throat. If he was good-looking before, he’s absolutely  _ beautiful _ now, the tux leaving him all long limbs and sharp angles against soft skin and the curls of his hair drawn into a ponytail tied off with a ribbon the same shade of red as his tie. He’s fiddling with his cuffs, staring resolutely down at his wrist as he tries to close his cufflink with a hand half-restrained by a cast. As Grantaire watches, he makes a small noise of frustration that has Grantaire crossing the room in long strides, taking Enjolras’ thin wrist in his calloused fingers and deftly locking the clasp of the cufflink.

“I know I’m not the ideal date,” he says as he rolls up the unbuttoned sleeve on Enjolras’ other arm, until the end of the sleeve sits just above the cast, “but everyone else already paired off and I wasn’t about to let you pass up prom when you got yourself suspended  _ and _ landed yourself in the hospital so the rest of our friends could take who they wanted.”

If Grantaire had been looking, he would have seen the deep red flush that spreads across Enjolras’ face and neck at that, but his eyes are trained resolutely on the dainty signatures lacing the bulky cast.

“I didn’t do anything Eponine didn’t do first,” Enjolras says, his voice quiet. “It’s not like I didn’t know fighting would get me suspended.”

“Eponine did it for Cosette, though,” Grantaire replies, stepping back and trying his best to look Enjolras in the eyes as the sounds of acoustic guitar and  _ oh, we’re in love, baby _ fill the cramped bedroom. “Who did you do it for?”

“Everyone else, just like the rest of our friends. Wasn’t that obv-”

“I didn’t.”

Enjolras blinks. “What?”

“I didn’t do it for anyone else,” Grantaire says. “Dance with me?”

“Who did you-”

“Dance with me,” Grantaire repeats, holding out a hand. Enjolras stares at it warily, as if Grantaire might suddenly disappear, but takes it after a few moments of hesitation. His hand is cold in Grantaire’s, thin and dainty fingers settled lightly in Grantaire’s rougher ones as Grantaire tugs lightly, pulling Enjolras out into the center of the room. He wants to speak, wants to tell Enjolras how beautiful he looks and how fucking  _ in love _ with him he is, but the words are stuck in his throat like honey, refusing to pass his tongue and teeth. 

_ I feel safe when you’re holding me near, _ croons the song behind the two of them, and Grantaire places his hand gently on Enjolras’ waist, pulling him along to the slow beat. Enjolras isn’t looking at him, instead staring forward at his collarbones, and Grantaire makes to pull away at the thought that this gesture isn’t appreciated - but the fingers of Enjolras’ good hand tighten around his own as he begins to let go, and so he returns to swaying gently to the tune of the song.

_ Love the way you conquer your fears  _ echoes through the room, and Enjolras leans forward, lays his head against Grantaire’s chest as they dance, breathes in time with the guitar. 

“Why did you come?” he asks, but Grantaire can’t respond, not with the weight of how much he loves Enjolras crushing him slowly - maybe this wasn’t a good idea, he thinks, with the sinking feeling that this is a turning point he’s passed, there’s no returning now - 

_ You know hearts don’t break around here,  _ he sings instead, whispering the words into Enjolras’ golden halo of curls, tightening his grip almost imperceptibly on Enjolras waist, and suddenly the confession is pouring itself from between his lips,  _ I did it for you _ and  _  I love you  _ and  _ I’m sorry _ filling the spaces between verses; he pulls back to apologize and leave before he can make matters worse but suddenly Enjolras is kissing him and it’s sweeter than he’s ever imagined, it’s soft and warm and feels like home, here in a crowded bedroom at midnight, while the rest of the world is asleep.

“I had a feeling,” says Enjolras, speaking the words against Grantaire’s lips like a prayer before capturing them in another kiss.

“I’m sorry -” Grantaire starts, but Enjolras cuts him off with another kiss, wrapping his good arm around Grantaire’s neck, swaying them to the slow rhythm of the song.

“Dance with me,” he says, and Grantaire does.

**Author's Note:**

> please validate me im in love and sad about it


End file.
